


As The Crowe Flies

by 74days



Series: Monster of the Week [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 19:37:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/752261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/74days/pseuds/74days
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monster of the Week: The Ghost<br/>Sam and Dean arrive in Green County, Iowa, after three teenagers have commit acts of suicide within a week of each other. Dean is unconvinced about the involvement of anything Supernatural - until he finds evidence that backs up his brothers theory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As The Crowe Flies

Monster of the Week

As The Crowe Flies

 

“So get this.” Sam announced from behind the newspaper, and Dean doesn’t roll his eyes at his brother because the last time he did that he got a well aimed punch that stung for longer than he’d like to admit. “Three kids ‘committed suicide’ in Green County, Iowa, this last week.”

“And?” Dean asked, because kids offing themselves had nothing to do with them. They had enough trouble with the demons and the monsters that were out there – let a shrink deal with the kind that lived in your head.

“Just, reading between the lines, Dean, it just seems like something we should take a look at.” Sam must have seen the expression on his face. “Look, if it isn’t something we need to look into, we can just carry on. It’s not like we’ve got another job lined up anyway.”

Dean nodded, because most of the time, Sam knew what he was doing with these things – probably better at finding patterns than Dean was anyway – with that massive brain of his.

“Alright, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Dean shrugged. “We’ll take a look.”

* * *

 

“I’m very sorry for your loss.” Sam was saying to a woman dressed all in black, “Do you mind if my partner took a look around Aaron’s room?” He asked, voice soft and consoling.

They were sitting in the living room of the first victim, and by the looks of the place, he was your typical over-achiever. Pictures of Aaron on the mantle in his football uniform, trophies in the glass cabinet, neatly lined up beside the pageant trophies of his little sister. Dean had just caught a glimpse of her, sitting at the top of the stairs, when they’d walked in.

“I won’t disturb his things.” Dean added. “I know this is a hard time.”

“I thought it was a suicide.” Mrs Gale said, hands shaking. “They told us it was a suicide.”

Dean got to his feet, while Sam nodded. “We are just checking everything, Mrs Gale.”

“Because of his friends, you mean.” She said, looking at Sam dead in the eye. “Gary and Shelly?”

“We just want to check everything. We know how important the truth is.”

Dean left them talking, Sam with his long legs taking up what felt like half the room, and Mrs Gale trying not to cry as she told his brother about what a ‘good boy’ Aaron was. How he was happy, popular and wouldn’t do something like this.

Dean climbed the stairs, noticing all the framed photographs of family outings and smiling kids. Aaron looked like a great kid, but how many time had Dean seen photographs that lied? He had one in his wallet – the one of him and mom, and he knew when it was taken she’d been sad because she’d just gotten off the phone with dad and they’d had a fight. Pictures lied.

It was easy to tell what room belonged to Aaron, the door had a handmade sign – obviously made by little miss pageant princess or something, with his name in uneven letters. Dean pushed open the door and walked in, pulling the EMF meter out of the pocket on the inside of his jacket. He did a quick scan of the room, but nothing picked up, not even a single ‘tick’ on the machine. Shrugging, he put the meter away and smoothed down his jacket. Looked like this wasn’t their problem after all.

“It wasn’t in here.” A small, soft voice said from behind him. Dean turned to see the pageant princess standing in the doorway. Dean didn’t really like pageants for kids. The idea of a little girl all dressed up in make-up and crap made his skin crawl. He was all for Miss America, but there was something freaky about the little doll faces of kids. This little girl though, looked like any other little girl. Nothing at all like what he was expecting.

“Hi.” He said, pulling out his badge. “I’m Agent Smith.” He smiled, showing her his ID. She didn’t look at it – no one ever really looked at the badges. “I’m just here to check up, make sure everything is... okay.” He crouched down, ignoring the pop of his knees (Jesus, it wasn’t like he needed to reminder he was getting old) as he got down to her level. “You must be Holly.” She was watching him carefully. Dean respected that. “What do you mean, it wasn’t in here?” He asked.

“Aaron. He didn’t do it in here.” She looked around the room, eyes flicking over the made bed and the posters that would probably never change. Mom looked the type to keep it like some kind of shrine.

“Where did he do it?” Dean asked, his voice even and calm.

“In the basement.”

* * *

 

She lead him down to the basement, which wasn’t the normal freaky basement that he’d been expecting, but some kind of home gym slash tv room, with a beat up couch that had seen better days. They gym equipment looked well used.

Holly, who refused to climb down, was watching him from the top of the stairs with a slightly interested expression. He smiled up at her, and looked around a little more closely.

There wasn’t any blood on the floor, but the sharp smell of cleaning products was hard to miss – someone had made sure this place was spotless.

Aaron Gale, the first suicide, had hung himself – they’d already taken a look at the body – but Dean couldn’t see anywhere in the room where he could have managed it. The roof didn’t have any exposed beams or pipes that a rope could be tied to – there wasn’t even a hook on the back of the door.

He glanced up at the little girl who was watching him as he pulled out his EMF meter and smiled, holding it up to her. “Just running a quick test.” He explained, turning it on. As soon as power hit the machine, it started to tick loudly, needle hitting the red instantly, the little L.E.D lights flashing madly. Dean shut it off at once. **_Damn_**. Totally their type of thing.

* * *

 

“Lit up like a Christmas tree.” Dean advised Sam as they walked away from the house. “No way this kid hung himself in there. He had help.”

“From what the mom told me, he was a good kid, usual stuff – parties, friends, okay grades – on the football team.” Sam said as they climbed into the car. The door on Dean’s side had a squeak, it bugged the hell out of him but he couldn’t seem to find out where it was coming from. He needed to get her back to Bobby’s and take a good look.

“You hit the books.” Dean said, starting the engine. “I’ll go talk to the other families.”

“How about you got to the morgue and take a look at the other two kids, and I go talk to the families.” Sam argued. “The last time you spoke to a grieving woman you asked her if her husband was a warlock.”

“He was!” Dean replied, ignoring Sam’s bitch face. “Fine.” He sighed. “I’ll go look at the bodies, you go hold hands and make new friends.”

* * *

 

He dropped Sam off at the house of the second victim before making his way to the coroner. They already knew him at the front desk from when he’d arrived with Sam the day before, checking out the first kid.

“Whose you’re friend?” The guard asked, nodding his head directly behind Dean.

“I’m an ang-”

“Dean didn’t even need to turn around. “He’s an independent advisor to the FBI.” Dean cut over the gravelly voice. “We called him in to make sure that there was nothing missed out. Clerical errors are a bitch.” Dean managed as he walked forward. Once he was sure that the guard wasn’t paying them any attention, he swung around. “Jesus, Cas!” He hissed. “You can’t just appear in the middle of a room without telling me! We got you a phone for a reason.” He paused. “What are you doing here anyway? Trouble we need to know about?”

Sometimes Dean forgot that Cas was just... joyriding a body. Jimmy Novak was long gone now, killed or burned out the first time Castiel had been blown up, or stabbed or something probably worse. But it was still a human body, and Dean noticed that although Cas could Angel Clean the clothes, and the peachfuzz was gone, the body was getting older. He’d only been a baby when they’d first met, now years hung on his face. Dean found himself smiling, as least he wasn’t alone in that.

“You advised me if there was a time when I found myself unused,” God, Dean didn’t need to think about all the better ways Cas could have phrased that, “Then I could come here and make myself useful.”

Dean shrugged. “Sam’s off talking to the vic’s families, I’m checking out the bodies. Regular stuff.” He wondered if Cas was so bored up in heaven that even checking out a body was considered exciting stuff. He didn’t seem to mind though, so Dean shrugged again, and didn’t say anything else. The guy was always handy to have around. There wasn’t much an Angel couldn’t handle when the chips came down.

He had to flash his badge again when they got down to the morgue, and Cas advised the guy on duty that he was ‘An Independent Advisor to the FBI.’ In that gravelly voice without adding ‘and an Angel of the Lord’ to the end, so Dean was willing to put that down as a win.

* * *

 

“Cas is here.” Dean told Sam down the phone, and Sam fought back a smile. Of course Cas would be there. He’d managed to show up on almost every hunt for the past month, normally just as soon as Sam and Dean split up – Sam would get a call: Cas is here. “Anything from the parents?”

“Not really. Same story as Aarons mom, good kids, no trouble with school – popular. Regular kids.”

“Yeah, well, there is no way this kid threw himself off the roof, unless he picked himself back up and did it another 5 times.” Dean advised. “Pretty much every bone in his body is broken.” There was a pause. “Did you go to the other place?”

“I’m on my way now.” Sam told his brother. “You have the car, so I’m walking.”

“Well, check the bathroom. Cas says there’s water in her lun – stop sniffing the body! – Water in her lungs, but cause of death was due to her slicing open her wrists.”

Sam nodded. The garage that Gary had apparently thrown himself off hadn’t been high. The worst thing that could have happened there would be a broken leg and a concussion. It certainly wouldn’t have killed him. “Is there anything else I need to know before talking to Shelly’s parents?”

“Not that I know.” Dean said, “We’re heading back to the motel – You want me to pick you up anything to eat?”

“Nah, I’m going to stop by somewhere on my way back.” Sam said, “See if you can find something that links these kids.”

* * *

 

Just because Dean hated research, didn’t mean he couldn’t do it. He just didn’t like doing it. It got harder to concentrate when Cas decided that he was going to be ‘a regular hunter’ this time, and was eating his burger and drinking his soda across the table from where Dean was trying to work. He’d taken off the trench coat and loosened his tie – and Dean never really knew why that just seemed wrong. Like he was seeing him naked or something.

Sam had left the laptop – Dean remembered when he’d been younger and on hunts with his dad. Something like a laptop would have helped a whole helluva lot. They complained, but damn, it was a lot easier to find a connection when you could just look up a kids facebook page.

“They were all at a party a few weeks ago.” Dean said, checking out the posts. “Seems this Shelly girl was ‘super hyped’ about it.”

Cas chewed carefully. “A party could attract a powerful spirit.”

“Yeah, but there aren’t any pictures of the party.” Dean said, clicking through the files. “I mean, this chick, she posted pictures of everything. Her friends, her room, her nails, her coffee order... but nothing about this party.”

“Perhaps she did not attend.” Cas said after a while. “Cancelling plans would not be uncommon amongst younger people.”

“It would be a big deal for her.” Dean said, reading further into her timeline. “She posts everything. Something must have happened – after the party, she posts almost nothing for a week.”

“A high online presence may mean she was struggling with acceptance.”

“Or she’s just a regular kid.” Dena pointed out. “Everyone’s online now, Cas.” He paused. “I’m going to the station to see if there were any reports on this party.” He said, getting to his feet. “You wanna wait here for Sam to get back?”

For a moment, Dean thought that Cas was actually going to stay, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Each time Dean had asked before, the Angel was always on his feet before he’d finished talking. This time though, he looked at his burger and soda.

“Can I finish this?” He asked, holding up the food. Dean still had half his own burger to eat, and a soda to drink – he wasn’t drinking on the job anymore.

“Sure.” He said, sitting back down and picking up his own burger. “I need to eat this anyway.”

* * *

 

Sam was sitting in the small diner when he saw the Impala pull up outside the station across the street. Cas was saying something and Dean was smiling – and for a moment Sam forgot that he was looking at his brother. They looked like two guys, maybe best friends, sharing a joke or just hanging out. Hard to think that Castiel was an Angel and Dean had racked up a body count higher than most serial killers. They looked normal. They looked happy. He ordered a refill on the coffee and carried on eating his salad. Whatever Dean had found, he obviously didn’t need back-up.

Half an hour later, Dean and Cas were walking out of the station and Dean had a determined look on his face. He was already lifting the phone to his ear when Sam felt his mobile phone start to buzz in his pocket.

“Yeah?” He asked, not even bothering to check the number as he lifted the phone to his ear. “What did you find at the station?”

“How’d you know where I was?”

“I’m at the diner across the road.” Sam said, and then waved when Dean’s head shot around in his direction.

“They have pie?”

“I’ll order you a slice now.”

“Cas, you want pie?” Sam could clearly see the Angel shake his head. “Cas’ll have pie. Order two.” Dean announced, walking across the road.

* * *

 

“So a girl died at this party?” Sam asked, as Dean polished off the last of his pie and pulled the untouched plate in front of Cas over to his side of the table.

“Yup. Hannah Crowe. She drowned.” He said.

“Like Shelly.” Sam stated.

“Like Shelly. Only,” Dean swallowed a mouthful. “This girl, she drowned in the pool and no-one noticed. Too smashed.”

“From what we were able to determine, it was an accidental drowning.” Cas told his brother, “She slipped on the wet surface of the pool floor and knocked her head, going under the water un-noticed until the end of the night.”

“Her friends didn’t notice she was missing?”

“She didn’t have any friends.” Dean pointed out, pointing to his empty coffee cup as the waitress walked past. “Refill please.” He smiled warmly at the older woman as she blushed. He still had it. He turned back to Sam, ignoring the look on Castiel’s face. “She just moved here. Her mom died last year, and she came here to stay with her grandfather.”

“So she’s pissed that no one noticed she’d died – and is taking it out on the kids who were at the party?” Sam said, running through the information.

“A nice easy salt and burn tonight.” Dean grinned. “Just like the old days.” He scooped up the last of the pie and winked at the waitress who refilled his coffee cup. “Best day ever.”

* * *

 

They had changed out of the suits and back into their own, much more practical clothes. Cas, of course, didn’t change anything – just stood there in the twin room they’d rented and watched them change.

“If you’re going to be hanging around more,” Dean said, pulling on his shirt, “We need to get you some more clothes.” He commented. “You stick out in the suit.”

“These are the only clothes I have.” Cas replied, looking down at the ever clean suit and jacket.

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point of _getting you some more clothes_.” Dean sighed, grabbing his jacket.

“I could not take them to Heaven with me.”

“We’ll keep them in the trunk with our stuff, you idiot.” Dean said, rolling his eyes. “Get you a duffle and stow all your crap.”

Cas tipped his head to one side. “If you think it is necessary.” Which Dean was pretty sure was angel talk for: I don’t think it is necessary.

“Good.” Dean said, grabbing his boots. “It’s settled.”

* * *

 

“I am returning to heaven.” Cas said from the back seat as they were driving along to the cemetery where Hannah Gordon was buried.

“Yeah, you just want to get out of having to dig.” Dean shot back, but Cas was already gone. “I hate when he does that.” He muttered under his breath.

“Leaves?”

“Poofs out of the car.” Dean replied. “What if he gets it wrong and ends up hurting my baby?” He patted the dash fondly.

“I hate to tell you Dean, worrying about your car rather than Cas is a bit harsh.”

“He’s an Angel of the Lord.” Dean pointed out. “He can look after himself. My baby is a classic work of art and she needs a little TLC – not an Angel fucking her up with a badly judged ‘poof’.”

He didn’t need to see his brother to know that he was pulling a bitch face. “We’re here.”

* * *

 

The cemetery was like any other cemetery they’d ever been in – dark, slightly creepy and in the middle of nowhere.

It didn’t take them long to find Hannah’s stone. “Flowers are still fresh.” Sam stated, moving them out of the way. “If she’s getting visitors, we need to rebury the bones after – they can’t know we were here.”

“Typical.” Dean complained. Normally they’d just dig it up, burn it, and go. This time they were going to have to make sure the grass was taken back first, then re-fill the damn thing after they were finished. “Trust Cas to bail.”

Sam rolled his eyes and he pulled out one of the compact shovels.

“What?” Dean argued. “He could have helped.”

“You know we’re more than capable of doing this by ourselves, right?”

“It’s just a lot easier with a loaded Angel,” Dean shrugged, catching the shovel that was thrown his way. “That's all I’m sayin.”

* * *

 

Three hours later, covered in mud and smelling like hells barbeque, Dean locked the door to the motel room, and kicked of his shoes. “Dibs on the shower.”

“Dean, you got it first last time,” Sam bitched, pulling off his jacket and revealing large sweat stains on his shirt.

“Fine.” Dean shrugged. “But if you spend too long on your hair, I’m turning on all the faucets in this place.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

* * *

 

As Sam showered, Dean picked up the disguarded clothes and checked them out. He’d noticed that Sam shirt was getting a little worse for wear – he was going to have to stop by the surplus store and pick up some more stuff sooner than he thought. Stupid kid was still harsh on clothes, even though he’d stopped growing. At least he didn’t need to worry about Cas’ stuff too – he doubted that anything he bought would even get dirty, never mind worn out.

None of their clothes were going to pass the sniff test today, so rather than try to sort out the good from the bad, he just bundled them together and stuffed them into the duffle.

There was a rustle behind him. “Hello Dean.”

“Hi Cas.” He said, not even bothering to turn around. “How was Heaven?”

“As it always is.” The Angel replied, sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed. “With Gabriel’s return, there is a definite lack of politics. Things are... smoother.”

“Dull.” Dean supplied. “It’s dull. I thought Gabriel would have... I dunno... caused trouble.”

“He is the messenger of God.” Cas said. “Very few will doubt his motives.”

“What about you?” Dean asked, picking up the last of the clothes Sam had left in his wake. “You doubt his motives?”

“No.”

That surprised Dean, and it must have shown on his face. “Gabriel is many things. He is irresponsible and dangerous, but he is also my brother – one whom has, since his return – been forgiving and even, in his way, righteous.”

“I thought I was the only righteous man you knew, Cas.” Dean joked. “I’m hurt.”

“It was not my intention to cause you pain.” Cas responded instantly.

“I’m joking.” Dean said, holding up his hands. “It’s just a joke.”

“Why are you sniffing clothes?” Cas asked after a while. “You have told me on many occasions not to smell things.”

Dean sighed and looked up at the Angel who was still perched on the end of the bed. “I tell you not to sniff **_dead_** things, Cas, I’m smelling the clothes to see if they need washed.”

“They do.”

“I know that.” Dean retorted. “Because they smell.”

“Very well.” Cas agreed after a long pause. “I am not needed here.”

Dean was going to say something, anything, but once again the Angel was already gone. There was a click and the shower door opened, Sam walking out with a towel around his hips and another around his head, like a damn chick. No man needed that much hair.

“Who were you talking to?”

“Cas.” Dean replied, grabbing the leather bag that kept all his toiletries in. “He left again. Just checking in.”

Sam threw Dean a look that Dean ignored. “He does that a lot now, huh?”

“He’s bored.”

“Sure.” Sam said, in a tone that was heavy with something Dean wasn’t going to try to understand. “Showers all yours. Don’t turn the dial – it’s temperamental.”

* * *

 

“Dean?” A rough gravelly voice was saying, and it took a few moments for Dean to separate the voice that was in his dream to the voice that was real. He blinked his eyes open, and could tell by the lack of light outside that it was before dawn.

“Cas, I need my 4 hours.” He muttered, “We spent the night digging up a dead girl. Let me sleep.” He muttered, rolling onto his side and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Another man has been found.” Cas told him, which had Dean blinking his eyes open again.

“Say what?”

“Another man. I did some digging.” And Dean could hear the air quotes that Cas was throwing up there, like he was watching him. “He was not of the correct age group to attend the party where Hannah Crowe was found.”

“Cas, we burnt her bones, maybe this guy just killed himself.”

“He was beaten to death in a locked room.”

Dean sighed. “Right, okay.” He said, pushing himself up. “Go get coffee and something to eat. I’ll wake up Sam.”

* * *

 

 

Sam drank the coffee as he booted up the laptop. Cas was standing to one side, basically resonating helpfulness but not actually doing anything.

“How did you hear about this, Cas?” Sam asked, looking at the screen, eyes still fighting to focus.

“I was listening,” He shrugged a shoulder at the police scanner. “And there was a call to police and medical caregivers.”

“I thought you were going back upstairs.” Dean asked, mouth full of egg and bacon. He didn’t seem too concerned that Cas had obviously been ‘watching over them’ as they slept – he was more pissed off at the fact that they’d spent the night digging up the wrong body.

“I did. And then I returned here.” Cas said, as though he was stating the obvious. “You told me that I could return at any point and-”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean said, swallowing. Sam fought back a smile. Dean had told the Angel he could stay. In fact, Dean had told the Angel that he could stay with them for as long as he wanted, and then he’d gotten royally pissed when Cas had left an hour or so later. “So, what now? I did the resserch. The only thing linking the kids was the Crowe girl.” He glared at Sam. “I checked.”

Sam didn’t doubt it, although his big brother would actively avoid doing research if he could, he was good at it.

“I don’t know, Dean, everything checked out. I mean, the dead girl was the only thing linking the kids, but this guy? What, he was a confirmed bachelor – almost 80 years old. There is nothing that ties him to the other deaths.”

“We’ve got a ghost who decided to just start killing random guys?” Dean snorted. “That's great. How the hell are we supposed to know where to even start, huh?”

* * *

 

“Thank you for your time, Ma’am.” Sam said, shaking hands with the woman who’d found Mr Harry Green beaten to death in his locked home. “If you remember anything else, please, let us know.” He handed her a white card with their contact details on it. Well... some of their contact details on it.

“Well, that was a bust.” Dean complained as they walked away. “Nothing.”

“I don’t get it.” Sam said, shaking his head as Dean’s mobile started to ring. “There is literally nothing that connects this guy to the others.”

Sam glanced as Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket, answering. “What?” There was a pause. “You’re where?” Another pause. “We’re on our way. No, you stay there. We’re coming to you.” He hung up. “Cas found something. He’s in the library.”

* * *

 

“Hannah Crowe was the grand-daughter of James Crowe, a man of colour who lived here in the early 1960’s.” Cas said. “He was beaten to death.” He moved to one side so that Dean could get a better look at the computer with the old newspaper artical.

“He was found guilty of raping a white girl, and was lynched on his way to prison.” Dean read. “No charges were made.” He paused. “That’s all they’ve got? No charges were made?”

Sam was clicking madly on his own laptop now, as Cas sat on the hard plastic chair. “Good job.” Dean found himself saying, clasping Cas on the shoulder. “We’ll make a hunter of you yet.”

Cas beamed, which Dean found beyond funny. He smiled, and was about to poke fun at the pleased expression on the Angels face, when Sam cut in.

“Okay, get this,” He started. “The girl that James Crowe raped? She left town after he was killed. Swore up and down that he hadn’t hurt her, they were in love. She gave birth to a son – which was how they figured that James was the father, I guess. Not a lot of ‘men of colour’ as Cas put it, in town back then.”

“They killed him for dating a white girl?” Dean asked, “Jesus.”

“As far as I can see, the girl left with the baby, raised him under Crowes name.” Sam carried on, nodding. “So when Hannah comes back here...”

“And ends up dead.”

“And the grandkids of the men who killed him are there, the ghost of James Crowe comes back for a bit of vengeance.”

“We burned the wrong bones.” Dean said, frustration clenching his hands. “We burnt her for no reason.”

“We couldn’t have known, Dean.” Sam pointed out. “The kids were the only thing we had to go on.”

“So, what?” Dean asked. “Do we even know who the guys who killed James Crowe are? They weren’t mentioning names in the paper back then.”

“No, but looking at this... There were 5 men who gave statements at the trial that all said James was guilty.”

“Let me guess,” Dean said, leaning over Cas’ shoulder and grabbing the files they’d brought with them. “Green, the old guy Cas found,” He clasped a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Aaron Gale’s granddaddy, Harris – Shelly’s grandpop, and some relation to Gary Levi?”

“And one more – Colton Jefferson.”

“Who is still alive?”

“And currently in an assisted living facility here in town.” Sam nodded.

* * *

 

“I am being called back to Heaven.” Cas announced from the passenger seat as they drove along the road towards the cemetery.

“No you don’t!” Dean snapped, hand shooting out and grabbing onto the sleeve of the trenchcoat. “You always bail at the part where we need you.”

Cas turned his head to look at Dean with a slightly amused expression on his face. “You are able to find a grave without my assistance.” He pointed out.

“Yeah, and I can dig a body up too – but I sure as hell don’t want to do it alone. It’ll be easier with two.”

“I will return as soon as possible.” Cas said, and with that, Dean found himself holding onto nothing.

“Son of a bitch.” He snapped, “Great. What else, huh?” Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the first fat droplet of water hit the windscreen – the rain was starting.

* * *

 

Sam watched the rain as it fell in heavy sheets outside of the window. He was standing in the room of Colton Jefferson, an 80 year old man with whispy white hair and shaking hands. Luckily, Dean had Cas to help with the digging, he was going to need it in this weather.

“Mr Jefferson, I want to ask you a few questions, if that’s okay?” Sam asked, scoping out the room as he spoke. The woman who’d looked at his badge and brought him to the room had left, closing the door behind her. “About James Crowe?”

“Figured.” The old man said, his voice dry and papery. “Only a matter of time, really.”

“You know what I’m going to ask you?” Sam said, surprised.

“I’m not an idiot, boy.” The old man replied, looking out of the window. “No suit comes here to ask an old man about something unless they already know the answer.”

“Did you kill James Crowe?”

Mr Jefferson sighed, not turning around. “I was so stupid.” He said. “Thinking that I was so much better than he was, just because of the colour of my skin.” He glanced at Sam. “You know, for the past four years a black woman has come in here twice a day and brushed my hair and fixed my clothes, and she never once knew I would have spat on her in the street when I was a boy.” He sighed, and looked back out of the window. “She looks after me.” He said.

“Mr Jefferson, I think you may be in danger.”

“I know that, son.” The old man laughed. “You think I don’t see the news? You think I don’t know he’s comin for me now?”

“I’m not going to let that happen.” Sam told him, looking out of the window and praying that Dean was able to find the bones in time.

“Why? You gonna risk your life for an old murderer, boy? I killed that man. I’ve had his blood on my hands for most of my life, and I’m getting everything I deserve.” He paused. “I always knew this day would come, I just didn’t think it would take him so long to come get me.”

* * *

 

Dean was soaked to the skin and cursing his luck as he stood knee deep in mud, trying to stop the hole he was trying to make from being filled as he worked. He could already feel the thick mud between his toes, the wet denim chafing on his thighs as he worked on clearing enough of the packed earth to get to the wooden grave under his feet.

Finding the grave wasn’t too hard, he’d been expecting to spend hours looking for some unmarked resting place, but had found the stone fairly quickly. ‘Forgive Us’ was carved under his name, he’d only been 19 when he’d been killed.

“I swear to God, Cas, when you get your ass down here, I’m going to kick it.” He muttered under his breath as he scooped the sloppy mud away, only to have the water fill the space he made immediately. “ _ **Twice**_.”

* * *

 

The temperature in the room was dropping fast, Sam could already see the mist when he let out each breath. However, whatever was coming was taking its time rather than the instant appearances he was used to. This wasn’t just an angry spirit out for vengeance – this was a ghost who’d been peacefully resting until the accidental death of his granddaughter started stirring at his bones.

“I deserve this.” Colton Jefferson said, breath clearly visible as he spoke. “I’ll burn in hell for what I did to that boy.”

* * *

 

“Cas, get you’re feathery ass down here **_right now_**!” Dean snapped. The hole he was digging wasn’t getting any shallower. In fact, with the amount of water that was falling, it was probably deeper than it was before. He had water around his thighs. He was freezing cold, and he was pretty sure nothing was going to burn in this.

* * *

 

Sam pulled the iron knife out of his jacket pocket and swung his arm at the rapidly appearing apparition in the room. As soon as the iron touched the outline of a body, it crackled red and vanished. “Come on Dean!” Sam snapped, before he was lifted from his feet and thrown into the door. His head bounced off the wood, and he felt the sting of a new cut on his scalp, the warmth of blood in his hair.

* * *

 

“Fuck!” Dean cursed again, as he tried bailing the water out of the hole. There was no way he was going to be able to get to the bones – hell, he couldn’t even get to the coffin. “Cas!” He called, turning his face up to the sky. “Get your ass down here now!”

* * *

 

Sam found himself thrown across the room by a force he couldn’t see, hitting the floor and sliding across until his back connected with the wooden dresser with a crash. Colton Jefferson was still sitting on the chair that looked out of the window, unmoving. He hadn’t tried to run for help.

* * *

 

“Dean.” Cas’ voice said from above him, sounding completely unfazed by the sight of Dean up to his thighs in muddy brown water.

“Cas!” He glared, trying to turn around, but getting his feet tangled in the hole he was trying to make and slipping. He gasped as he fell, landing on his knees with a wet crack and swallowing a mouth of muddy water. He coughed and choked as he tried to get back up on his feet, until Cas simply leaned down and lifted him by the back of the leather jacket. Dean was still coughing when he found himself on his knees beside the grave. “What the fuck took you so long?” He snapped, wheezing.

“I was given another task that took precedent.” Cas supplied, looking at the hole that was still filling with water as the rain continued.

“More important than this?” Dean snapped, trying to get to his feet. “What the hell, man?”

“I thought you would rather I stepped in and prevented the death of Ellen.” Cas told him, in what Dean knew was the Angels’ equivalent of a bitch voice. “In the future I will let your friend die and rush to your side the moment you call.”

“Ellen?” Dean asked, panic overtaking him. “What happened to Ellen?” He demanded, getting to his feet.

“She slipped, and became trapped under a beam.” Cas told him. “I stayed with her long enough to ensure that the beam was safe, and that she was perfectly able to return to her duties.” He paused. “I thought you would prefer that to my being here.”

Dean’s anger deflated. If it was Ellen... then, yeah okay. Or Jo too – or Bobby or any other hunter who was needing help, who the fuck was Dean to stop Cas helping them? He wasn’t there to perch on Dean’s shoulder, no matter how much Dean liked him there. He wiped a muddy hand over his face. “You know I wouldn’t have called you here if I knew you were helping someone else.”

“Now I am here.” Cas pointed out. “And now you will ‘salt and burn’ these bones.” He pointed to a pile of very dry bones that were now sitting at Deans feet.

“You are one handy guy to have around, you know that?” Dean grinned.

* * *

 

Sam was seeing double when the ghost of James Crowe reached for the still unmoving Colton Jefferson. For a moment, Sam thought that he would pick him up, throw him around the room like he’d done with him, but when he was a few inches away from the body, he leaned back, and smiled.

Almost instantly, his transparent skin started to glow red and orange, before burning up in a roar of fire that left nothing but dust moats in the air.

“Mr Jefferson?” Sam asked, getting unsteadily to his feet. “Are you okay?” When the old man didn’t reply, Sam put a hand on the back of the chair, using it to steady him as he walked.

Colton Jefferson was sitting, with unseeing eyes staring out of the window, a single tear drying on his cold cheek.

* * *

 

“Are you sure you’re okay, Ellen?” Dean was saying down the phone as he pulled off his jacket in the motel room. He was dripping on the floor, and Sam could see that he was liberally covered in mud. “Yeah, I know he helped you, I’m just making sure you’re okay. You need us to swing by?”

Sam turned his head so he wouldn’t have to watch his brother strip out of his jeans. He noticed that Cas didn’t. Angels didn’t have much in the way of personal decency.

“You seem uneasy.” The Angel said, tearing his eyes away from Dean as his brother padded to the bathroom, phone still tight to his ear.

“I wasn’t able to save him.” Sam admitted, holding the ice pack to the back of his head. Cas had offered to heal him up, but Sam felt like he needed some kind of penance.

“His heart was weak.” Castiel reminded him. “He was not harmed by the ghost of James Crowe.”

“Yeah, but I was right there and I could have saved him, and I didn’t.” He sighed. He’d already had this talk with Dean, who’d picked him up from the assisted living complex after he’d spoken with the nurses.

The fact that Colton had died had nothing to do with the ghost that wanted to kill him, which was why the ghost hadn’t touched him – he was already dead.

“He didn’t even try to fight it.” Sam said. “He wanted Crowe to come for him.”

“Guilt is a heavy burden to carry.” Castiel agreed, eyes flickering back to Dean, who was walking back through to the main room, holding the phone in his hand.

“Ellen is fine.” He told them.

“I have already advised you of this.” Cas said, and Sam was sure he rolled his eyes. Ever since Gabriel had returned to Heaven, Cas had been acting more and more... human... with some things. Especially with Dean.

“Yeah, well, I’m just checking.” Dean shot back. “I’m going for a shower. I’ve got dirt in places I don’t need dirt.”

Sam grimaced. “Nice.”

* * *

 

“I don’t see why this is necessary.” Cas complained for the fourth time since they’d walked in to the store. “My current clothes are not in need of replacement.”

“Dude, I’m not walking into another diner with you dressed like that.” Dean retorted. “The last place thought you were a damn IRS auditor and we nearly got thrown out.” He handed the Angel a pack of boxer briefs and a pack of socks. “Seriously?” He said, looking around and rolling his eyes. “They never have Sam’s size.”

Cas was looking at the items in his hands with a look of distaste. “These are not what I am wearing.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s what you’re getting now.” Dean shot back. “I don’t give a damn what you’ve got on now, and I’m not going to have a discussion about your tighty-whiteys in the middle of a packed store, so suck it up.” Dean hissed, before stalking over to the stacks of neatly folded jeans and shirts. He wouldn’t be able to get Sam’s stuff here, they’d have to go to one of those fucking giant stores for that, but at least he could get Cas out of that damn suit. He picked up a couple of pairs and handed them roughly to the Angel that was trailing behind him with an unhappy expression.

“Dean, I do not want to wear these clothes.”

“What do you want to wear?”

* * *

 

Dean should never have asked, because Cas was wearing a pair of black suit pants and a white shirt. Only... the pants weren’t like the ones that he’d been wearing before, and the shirt wasn’t... quite so fitted. He even had a pair of black converse sneakers on. “I like this.” He said, looking right at Dean, who was having a hard time taking his eyes off the shirt Cas was wearing. He’d rolled up the sleeves. “Where the hell did you get those?” He asked, after clearing his throat and sending up a prayer that he’d not asked Sam to come along on this shopping trip.

“I saw them on a man on the television.” Cas advised. “For him.”

Aftershave. He looked like a damn aftershave model. Dean started to wish he’d never thought of getting Cas out of the suit.

He paid, ignoring the look that the serving girl gave Cas. The look that serving girls normally gave **_him_**.

Damn.

* * *

 

Sam sat in the motel and read through the local news. Something freaky was going on up near Nine Eagles State Park – almost directly in their way.

He picked up his mobile and dialled.

“What?” His brother snapped. “No, Cas, you don’t need the damn aftershave.” There was a pause. “No, it doesn’t.” Dean sighed down the line. “Sam?”

“So, get this...”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write a Monster of the Week fanfic because I proper love the show when they go on hunts.  
> Because I'm only going to be updating this once a week rather than every day like I do with my other stuff, I'm making this a series rather than a multi-chapter story.   
> It will be Destiel, but I'm going for a slow burn on that, trying to write it like it's the show, turned out to be a lot harder to do than I thought.   
> I'm also working with an 'everyone is alive' verse because that makes me so very happy to think about. I love Ellen, Jo, Bobby, Gabe and... just... everyone. I want my heart to be whole. 
> 
> So... I hope you liked this. Let me know what you think. I'm really looking for feedback on this one, what you thought of the plot, if everyone was IC, what you didn't like - what was too long, too short... you know, the usual!


End file.
